


In his own skin

by Ulqueleh (Ulquii)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Comfort, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Good Lotor (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, Lotor Week 2020, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Marrying with a stranger, Misgendering, Mutual Pining, Soft Lotor (Voltron), Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, like a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulquii/pseuds/Ulqueleh
Summary: “Mom,” he had whispered when the tears had run out and he felt too weak to move.“Yes, kit?” she murmured, fingers gentle in his hair and holding him close —holding him together.“Is it because I’m a woman?”Her caresses paused for a terrifying second, and he buried himself even more into her neck.“Oh, Keith…” she had said, pitifully, because now it made sense why, from all the other young from their clan, Kolivan had set to their home, “I’m so sorry…”
Relationships: Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 169
Collections: Lotor Week 2020





	In his own skin

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was a whole ride of self-discovery and I'm nearly crying. But not in the bad way, but, like, I'm so proud of this thing and of myself and wow.
> 
> I'll leave you to read.

The first time Keith looked at him, he thought he was probably as disgusting as his father; King Zarkon, _rest in peace_ , was a horrible man that in his regime had millions enslaved and imprisoned, and thousands more, dead for his name. Keith was almost relieved he was gone from this world, but seeing his son, Lotor, being crowned just a couple of days after the war had settled into an unsteady peace, made his gut squirm in distrust.

That man was as horrible as his predecessor.

“You’re going to marry him.”

Keith stumbled, plates falling from his hands and crashing on the floor. His mother was quick to get up from her seat, ushering Kolivan away and out of their home. But the damage was done and Keith felt his little opportunity of being free fall from his hands and shatter the same way the dishes did, white roses on the porcelain indecipherable in the remains.

He was as broken as those pitiful flowers.

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” his mother had said to his neck when he broke down crying in her arms, “This is so unfair.”

Keith agreed, but he couldn’t say so while sobbing, voice raw and eyes cried out.

“Mom,” he had whispered when the tears had run out and he felt too weak to move.

“Yes, kit?” she murmured, fingers gentle in his hair and holding him close —holding him together.

“Is it because I’m a woman?”

Her caresses paused for a terrifying second, and he buried himself even more into her neck.

“Oh, Keith…” she had said, pitifully, because now it made sense why, from all the other young from their clan, Kolivan had set to their home, “I’m so sorry…”

She shouldn’t be, Keith knew that, it wasn’t her fault Keith didn’t felt comfortable on his own skin, on his own body.

He had started living as a man when the war started, holding onto the opportunity to be who he really was when the clan was outnumbered and needed more men to fight than women to breed. He had let his hair grow and his muscles develop, the natural curves on his body disappearing slowly with every tight clothe and rough armor on him. It was the very first time Keith had felt like himself, like all the pieces he had gathered and somehow attached together was what was missing from him ever since he can remember.

But it made sense why Kolivan would go to them when Lotor required a spouse, when he requested a marriage to join his kingdom and their clan. He was one of the few people who knew about Keith’s past, about his real name and what he hid below his clothes.

Keith was devastated, because he had trusted Kolivan, and now he was being betrayed in the worst ways.

He didn’t have a say in it, though.

He was bathed in rose water and clothed in a flimsy white dress. His hair was braided with violet camellias and his lips painted in red with berries. He couldn’t bear to look in the mirror, his eyes threatening to water and ruin his last minute make up.

His mother didn’t look at him much, either, like she could sense how awful Keith was feeling when looking like a woman after so long on trying to not be one.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” she murmured, his hands cradled on hers and lips kissing his knuckles, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you from this.”

But it wasn’t her fault. It was Keith’s fault for pretending he was something he wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” he lied, and she hiccupped, “I’m okay.”

But it was useless. His mother knew he was lying.

—

It was worse than he thought it would be.

It always is.

Keith always thinks he’s ready, that he’s strong enough to keep going. But something always trips him, always makes him falter and hurt.

Good thing the wedding was going to be little, only immediate family and a few guests; Keith only had his mother, and Kolivan was going to be there, too, to Keith’s bitterness. He was aware Lotor didn’t have parents left, but a few members of his council were present, in the opposite side of the church where Kolivan and his mother were seated.

Keith couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable under the counselors’ eyes. They judge him, he knew —because of his roughed fingers and edges, because of the scar on his cheek and the muscles pulling taut the white cloth from the dress that was meant to be fluffy and free.

It was worse under the King’s watchful gaze. He had stared at him when he entered the church, and now that Keith was standing in front of him, he was slowly examining him, as if Keith was some creature he had to pull apart to understand. As if Keith was hiding something he couldn’t bear not knowing.

It was cleared enough, though, when the priest started the ceremony and Keith flinched with every _she_ , _her_ and _hers_ that fell from his mouth. It got worse in the ‘I do’s when he constantly asked _her_ if he accepted, if he was going to be Lotor’s loving _wife_ and only _hers_ to please.

“Yorak,” the priest pronounced, unaware of Keith’s disgust on hearing that name with every preach, “Will you take King Lotor as your loving husband for eternity or until death tears you apart?”

“I do,” Keith strained, feeling Lotor’s eyes carefully picking him apart. He hated it.

“King Lotor,” the priest said with a bow, Keith already prepared for the misgendering all over again, since this was now his new reality and he’ll never be the man he wanted, “do you take Yorak as your loving wife.” Keith tightened his fists on the camellias, “for eternity or until death tears you apart?”

Keith took a breath, letting the pain dull out slowly, and then the silence stretched too long, making him frown. He looked up cautiously, eyes suddenly meeting the King’s fervent stare, and Keith felt himself shook from inside out, legs buckling and threatening to let him fall.

“I do,” Lotor murmured, eyes narrowed, like it was a half-lie half-truth. Like the statement didn’t actually fit.

“I pronounce you man and wife,” the priest finished, and Keith dreaded for what was next, “Your Majesty may kiss the bride.”

But Lotor didn’t move, and Keith swallowed dry, feeling already faint. Murmurs were spreading from the small audience, about how the King was married to someone he wouldn’t even touch, to someone that looked too different from a woman and at the same time not quite a man.

Keith hated it.

“Your Majesty?” the priest poked, and Lotor sighed, hand carefully taking one of Keith’s. He almost flinched away, but forced himself to keep still when the king leaned to him, breath tickling his parted lips.

“Stay still,” Lotor ordered gently, quiet, only for Keith to hear, and he did, hand tight on the King’s fingers while other hand cradled his face, turning it away from the audience.

It took a while for Keith to understand, Lotor’s mouth stopping a shy from kissing him, and letting his eyes flutter close at the distance, at the softness of his hold, Keith somehow felt steadier on his feet, the disgust and fear washing over him every time he was referred to as a woman, as Yorak, fading away.

Keith gasped softly when lips grazed just in the corner of his mouth, blinking away the fear when Lotor pulled away and looked into his eyes, a silent order to go along tucked just under the blue irises. And then understanding came to Keith, Lotor pulling away without as much touching him and the guests thinking he was kissed like a wife was accustomed to in this ceremonies.

Keith felt safe for a second. Then for two seconds.

And then, somehow, Lotor pulling him away to his chambers, away from the rest of the world ready to judge him, Keith kept feeling safe.

His mother came to say goodbye, her voice faltering every time he called him Yorak instead of Keith. He knew she did it that way because Lotor was still watching, was still hearing, even when his attention was anywhere but them.

“Come here,” she had murmured when Kolivan urged her to hurry, and Keith couldn’t help his dirty glare at his traitor.

Keith fell into her arms, the same way he did when he received the news of his arranged marriage to a man he had never met before aside from his title as King and the moment of his coronation.

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” she shakily whispered into his hair, now free from the braid and a few stray flowers still tangled in it, “I’m so sorry.”

Keith couldn’t console her. He couldn’t assure her he was going to be fine. But the last action his new spouse had done in the church pushed him to do it.

“It’s okay,” he said, not knowing if he was lying or not, “I’m okay.”

His mother nodded and kissed his temple, and then, joining her forehead to his, she prayed, “Don’t lose yourself to this mean world, kit. You’ll always be you. You’ll always find your way back to you.”

And Keith had kept himself from crying the whole day, but that words broke him.

—

“What is your name?”

Keith tensed, the King’s voice travelling from where he was seated on a desk to the other side of the room where Keith stood, untangling the stems of the camellias in his hair.

“Your Highness?” he asked, keeping his head bowed and tone low.

“Your name,” Lotor said again, now standing up and crossing the room, “Tell me your name.”

And they were already out of other people sights, the night taking place in the sky. They were alone and still Keith couldn’t risk it.

“Yorak, Your Highness,” he responded, but Lotor sighed, approaching and making him look up.

“Not that one, love,” Lotor murmured after a long pause, just staring into Keith’s eyes, “Your chosen name.”

Disbelief struck Keith harshly, making him gasp for air. He’s never been asked that aside from his mother. He’s never felt such a validation coming from someone he didn’t know, even larger than from the people who treated him as a man and didn’t know about his past.

“K-keith,” he breathed, wide-eyed and in awe, and Lotor hummed.

“Keith,” he repeated, soft-toned and extremely warm, “A man’s name.”

It wasn’t a question or an accusation, just a fact.

“Yes,” Keith whispered, and Lotor nodded.

“Do you prefer spouse, then? Husband?” he asks, surprising him even more, “Instead of wife.”

Keith’s jaw trembled, a knot tightening his throat.

“Y-yes,” he wobbled out, voice cracking with a sob, and tears fell as uncontrollable as before, but his mother wasn’t there to hold him together anymore.

“Oh, love.”

Keith gasped for air, Lotor’s hand taking one of his and cradling his face with the other, fingers carefully sweeping over the tears on his cheeks.

“You may be treated as you wish,” Lotor had murmured against his hair when Keith had fallen to his chest and his cries had calmed down, “You _will_ be treated as you wish, as you feel like yourself.”

Keith cried harder.

—

A few days in and Keith had learnt a lot from his husband; he was a morning person, different from the night owl Keith was. He was always the first to rise, almost with the sun, and the first to get to bed when the moon brightened the night. Keith had thought he was going to be woken up with him, to be always by his side, but he was surprised when Lotor had stopped him from getting out of bed, rubbing below Keith’s eyes with his thumbs.

“Rest until you wish, love,” he had said, reassuring, and then left the room.

Keith had been reluctant, and when Lotor arrived to the room again, the day already ending, he asked for his duties and Lotor looked at him with a thoughtful frown.

“You are free to do as you please, Keith,” he had said, “There is no need for you to be at my side if you do not want to.”

And Keith, well, he appreciated it. He also appreciated that all the dresses on his closet were exchanged for clothes he was more comfortable with. A tailor had arrived the next day to take measurements, and he had not questioned Lotor or Keith about him choosing men clothing instead of more dresses.

The servers were aware, too, none of them referring him as a woman, the name Yorak starting to fade away with every correction Lotor himself did to the ones that didn’t call him Keith.

He was protective, Keith had noticed. But despite that, he never talked over Keith, letting him choose for himself. Like hanging out in the huge library the castle had for his enjoyment, and lounge lazily in their rooms, only sometimes joining Lotor for meetings or outings.

There were things he couldn’t do, though, like be alone in a room with another man or riding a horse without his husband. They were stupid rules, meant to control the King’s wife, and Keith didn’t like not having his own power, as much as Lotor gave him freedom.

Still, he didn’t question it. Because, as comprehensive and understanding as Lotor was, he didn’t feel okay asking for more. Lotor had given him freedom to be a man, and at the same time had ridden himself from a proper wife he could kiss and find comfort in. That he could take to bed and pull apart whenever he wanted to.

Lotor wouldn’t touch Keith if it was not completely necessary and, as much as Keith didn’t want to be touched unless he wanted it, Lotor’s distance from him when they were lying in bed after a long day troubled him.

Lotor had given him a lot, and Keith couldn’t even please him as he should.

“Keith.”

Keith blinked, Lotor’s closed eyes now open and looking up at him. He didn’t know when he had moved, looming over the King’s body, so close to touch and still not doing so.

“I…”

Lotor watched him for a second, waiting for him to continue, but Keith took that time to stare; Lotor’s white hair splayed on the dark pillow like soft ink, Lotor’s dark blue eyes that brightened when he saw Keith, Lotor’s lips thin but plush, Lotor’s lashes long and fluttering right now, looking down to Keith’s own lips. Keith asked himself what he was trying to do, if it would work.

“Keith?” Lotor asked, head tilting a bit in wonder, voice kind of breathless, “What’s wrong?”

But, if it worked, how would Keith proceed?

“Nothing,” he lied, and rushed to turn on his hip and hide below the covers, heart hammering against his chest and face burning in embarrassment.

—

“I’ve been told of your abilities with the sword.”

Keith looks up from his book in his folded knees, gazing the back of Lotor while he walks away to the mirror. He doesn’t answer even if he should, letting the words hang in the air and for his silence to push Lotor to look at him. He does, eventually, shirt already unbuttoned. But not through the mirror like he thought, dark blue eyes looking over his shoulder to him.

“Would you let me see them?”

Keith resists the urge to bite his lower lip, Lotor not stopping his undressing and nearly giving him a show with how the muscles from his chest and back, just beneath lavender skin, ripple with each move.

“Thought I wasn’t allowed to wield weapons as your spouse,” he points out, the stupid rules from this country burned inside his skin to the borderline of painful.

“Permission isn’t something we need to ask for, Keith,” Lotor laughed, eyes dropping to his belt.

Keith’s throat clicked, gaze fixated on the dexterous fingers while they unbuckled the belt and unzipped the pants, but suddenly they stopped moving, making Keith look up. Lotor was watching him, eyes dark, and Keith contained a gasp, dropping his attention back to his book.

“Perks of being the ruler, huh?” he tried joking, but his voice came out squeaky, and his heart hammered with every second he kept silent.

“Yes,” he had sighed, eyes heavy on Keith, “I’m working on new laws that would make you freer, love.”

That made Keith pause, gaze going back to Lotor smiling at him in the other side of the room.

“Really?” he asked, breathy, and Lotor’s smiled turned unbelievably sweet.

“Anything for my beautiful spouse.”

—

Keith never liked praise.

Receiving words like _beautiful_ , _cute_ , or _pretty_ always reminded him of what he was supposed to be and he wasn’t. Reminded him of how he should be instead of the rough edges and harsh gestures he wore.

He hated them.

But Lotor had started to say them to him. Like telling him his hair looked _cute_ today on a braid Keith had managed to make and ruin more than a handful times before it came out presentable. Like telling him his eyes were _pretty_ under the sunlight in their daily stroll through the flower fields, with speckles of gold hidden in the indigo of his irises. Like telling him _beautiful spouse_ every evening before going to bed with a promise on a better day for Keith, and every morning when Lotor thought he was still asleep and it was murmured with such affection that Keith almost felt breaking into pieces and pulled back together.

Keith hated them. But Lotor had made him wait for them, anticipation curling on his chest and something stabbing his heart with despair.

Because he would never be _beautiful_ , _cute_ , or _pretty_. It felt like a lie.

—

“Anything for my beautiful spouse.”

Keith stared at him, at his smile and eyes attentive to the tea. Lotor looked up then, smile wavering when he caught Keith watching, and his eyebrows rose to his hairline.

“Something troubles you, love?”

And Keith couldn’t. He _shouldn’t_. But he was tired of pretending he was okay with this little game of his.

“You don’t have to say that,” he said, too harsh and punched out, and he looked away, feeling his head getting hotter with shame, “That I’m beautiful. There’s no need to pretend if it’s just the two of us.”

There was no response, the sound of the teapot clicking against the silver plate in the table echoing through the room and Keith’s mind.

_You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have questioned him. He’s the king, your king. Marriage or not, he can get you beheaded if that’s what pleases him._

Panic bubbled inside him, already guessing what the people at the castle, the people in the town just a couple of hours away, the people on the whole continent, would talk about him. About how stupid he was, about how utterly worthless he was as a Queen and that the King should’ve got rid of her the moment Keith entered the church the wedding day.

It was horrible feeling that familiar panic rush through him after months of not feeling it, of months feeling good in his own body, in his own skin, of months of not being mistaken as a woman.

“Keith,” Lotor called him, and Keith shook his head, blinking away the tears, “Keith, look at me.”

He didn’t want to, but hands found place on his face, careful and gentle, and tipped his head up to look at Lotor, the image blurry for a second before the tears fell and stained Lotor’s hands.

“I…” Keith tried, the sobs and his panic keeping him from breathing, “I-I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be, love,” he had said, expression soft and eyes even softer, as if that last word was true, as if he had fallen for Keith the same way Keith had fallen for Lotor, “Breathe with me, yes?”

Keith nodded; hand brought to Lotor’s chest to follow how it heaved with a deep inhale and deflated with a long exhale. Soon enough he was calmed down, this technique the King had figured to stop Keith’s attacks being each time more useful.

“I’m sorry,” Keith breathed, quiet, and Lotor shook his head, squeezing both his hands and leaning to kiss the back of one.

“Don’t be.”

They stayed silent for a longer while, the sunset already behind them and the tea time long gone.

“Do you want to get ready for bed?” Lotor asked, not intending to move until Keith nodded, and he guided him to their room, stopping just in the middle of it, “… Keith?”

Keith glanced up, shy on how red his eyes must be, on how awful he was, on how wrong he is for Lotor. But meeting the King’s gentle eyes, the bluest night trapped in them, made him stare. Then a hand was cradling his face, and Keith leaned into the warm palm, sighing.

“I’m not,” Lotor said after a long moment, making Keith look up in question, “Pretending; I’m not.”

Keith frowned, blinking, and Lotor sighed, taking a step closer to him.

“You’re beautiful, Keith,” he vowed, the way he should have done in their wedding, “I say what I mean.”

Keith’s mouth opened and closed, heart picking up the pace in his chest.

“You do?” he asked, wonder bleeding from his voice, and Lotor nodded, looking down to his parted lips.

“I am a man of truth,” he murmured, eyes finding Keith’s again, “Are you?”

Keith sighed, nodding.

“I am a man of truth,” he repeated, every word feeling as he said, a truth.

“Would you let me ask, then?” Lotor muttered, “Would you be truth in your answer?”

Breathing was hard, in a very different way his panic made him fight.

“I will,” Keith said and Lotor nodded, throat bobbing with a swallow.

“Do you love me?”

There was no truer truth in Keith’s life.

“I do,” he replied, honest and earnest, “Do you, Your Highness?”

Lotor’s smile was blinding.

“I do,” he breathed, cheeks a darker purple and eyes bright, “I do love you, Keith.”

Joy fulfilled his chest, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth, and Lotor chuckled, too, his thumb now touching next to Keith’s mouth.

“May I kiss you?”

Lotor might have been venturing with that question, but Keith was more daring on answering his ‘yes,’ grabbing for his shirt and pulling him down for the King to meet him halfway.

It was soft, the same way everything related to Lotor was, and Keith felt himself melt in his arms, wanting it to never end.

“Keith,” Lotor breathed against his lips, “May I…”

He trailed off, hand shy from Keith’s exposed hip, keeping from touching him even when Keith was almost pulling him down the bed.

“ _Yes_ ,” Keith sighed, kissing him pointedly on the lips before murmuring, “I’m all yours.”

Keith never wondered exactly how it could feel when being with someone he truly loves. There was a lot of pressure on finding the right person for you to be with and Keith never thought he would be able to achieve it, so he pushed that thought aside.

But waking up next to Lotor, sheets disarranged around both of them and feeling an ache below his navel he hadn’t felt in a long time, a pleasant satisfaction on being loved so deeply and knowing it after hearing it constantly during the night, Keith knew this was it.

“Keith?”

He hummed, reaching for the hand Lotor blindingly extended to him while still half asleep. It was the first time Lotor had stayed in bed after sunrise, and Keith was happy to think that maybe it won’t be the last time.

“Yes, Your Highness?"

Lotor wrinkled his nose at him prettily, and Keith chuckled.

“Don’t bring titles to bed, love,” he had grumbled, shifting to cuddle into Keith’s side, “Perhaps I should call you ‘Your Highness', too?”

Keith laughed, and hugged him close, leaving a kiss in the middle of his chest.

“A mock of a King, would you?”

Lotor hummed, smile on his lips.

“The day you married me you became a true King, love,” he stated, nuzzling his hair and unaware of how significant those words were to Keith.

“Not a Queen?” he muttered despite himself, too low to be heard.

But Lotor paused for a bit and Keith felt he had ruined everything.

“Keith?” Lotor called for him after a long silence, and Keith closed his eyes, expecting the worst.

“Yes?”

“Would you marry me?”

Keith looked up at him, eyes wide in confusion and wonder, Lotor just smiling at him with the same softness he had only for Keith.

“What?” Keith couldn’t help but ask, “But we _are_ married?”

“I want to be married to you,” Lotor explained, “Last time… Last time you weren’t who you wanted to be.”

Keith blinked, understanding washing over him.

“Then,” Keith started, feeling bold, “Who do you want to marry, Lotor?”

Lotor stared at him, watching closely, and his hand went to brush some hair away from Keith’s face, tender and sweet.

“I want to marry Keith, my husband, Second King of Daibazaal,” he announced solemnly, “I want to marry _you_.”

And Keith, ever since that day, dressed in whites but a different clothes, standing in the church but not forcibly so, and kissing Lotor in the mouth before his clan and Lotor’s guests, never felt out of his own skin.


End file.
